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Ęgeon Antipholis art thou Austria Bertram better blood Bohemia brother call'd Camillo Clown Count daughter Dauphin dear death devil dost doth Dromio Duke Enter Ephesus Ev'n Exeunt Exit eyes faid fair father Faulc Faulconbridge fool fortune foul France gentleman give hand hath hear heart heav'n honour Hubert husband i'th Illyria James Gurney John King King John knave Lady lise look Lord Madam maid Malvolio Marry master Melun mistress mother never night noble o'th Olivia ossice Paulina peace Philip poor pr'ythee pray Prince Queen SCENE changes sear sellow Shep shew Sicilia Sir Andrew Ague-cheek Sir Toby sire sirst speak swear sweet Syracuse tell thee there's thine thing thou art thou hast thoufand thyself tongue wise word
Page 103 - If music be the food of love, play on ; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again ! it had a dying fall : O ! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.
Page 394 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form 5 Then have I reason to be fond of grief.
Page 258 - Skulking in corners ? wishing clocks more swift ? Hours, minutes ? noon, midnight ? and all eyes blind With the pin and web,' but theirs, theirs only, That would unseen be wicked ? is this nothing ? Why, then the world, and all that's in't, is nothing; The covering sky is nothing ; Bohemia nothing; My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, If this be nothing.
Page 142 - element,' but the word is over-worn. \Exit. Vio. This fellow is wise enough to play the fool ; And to do that well craves a kind of wit : He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time, And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye.
Page 432 - This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.